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Archive for January, 2010

NEW YORK – Local millionaire, John Greenwood, insists that he is not recreating the fictional life of Jay Gatsby, the titular character of the F. Scott Fitzgerald novel in turn adapted to several film and television versions.

Standing on the dock of his Long Island, NY mansion, he adamantly maintains his unawareness of the proximity of Violet Robertson, a young heiress he courted in his youth, a positioning very similar to that of The Great Gatsby.

“We sort of lost contact after I went off to war,” he recalls, seemingly disinterested in the apparent correlation of events between the story and his own life, “I went to fight for her freedom, and the first thing she did was marry this racist putz with a fucktonne of money.”

Momentarily acknowledging the consistency between the copresence of a green light, both in the novel as a beacon to Gatsby’s lost love, and on his dock, he also insists that it was already installed when he purchased the estate.

“I’ve been meaning to take it down. A white LED light would be much more efficient anyway.”

While the source of his fortune is unknown, it is widely rumoured to be from illicit activities, just as Gatsby’s fortune was. Questions relating to business are consistently redirected to his associate Schlomo Wolfowitz, who Greenwood insists is in no way blatant mimicry of the seedy Meyer Wolfsheim characterization of Jews in the novel.

“Do you know how many Jews are in business? Would you rather I had picked a Mennonite?”

When asked about his intentions in constantly throwing massive parties reminiscent of 1920s decadence, Greenwood, who shares a monogram with the Gatsby character, contends it was not so that the former love of his life would one day arrive as a guest and, seeing him now as her equal, marry him.

“I really like women and cocaine,” he explains. I don’t have parties so one bitch I used to date shows up. Actually I’ve got a dozen or so waiting for me in the Jacuzzi as we speak.”

Also causing some speculation of aping is the recent arrival of Greenwood ‘s new neighbour, a bond salesman from the Midwest and the second cousin once removed of Violet. But he insists this too is coincidental, despite the fact that even from a distance the neighbour can be heard narrating events as they occur and reflecting on them later.

“Don’t get me wrong”, assures Greenwood, who was once forced to read the Great Gatsby in his high school English class. “I like books. I just think there’s better literature out there.”

“I’m really just a regular, ordinary guy trying to live the American Dream,” a gold-hatted Greenwood muses, as he prepares for his daily high-bounce aerobics routine.

TORONTO – Tyler Shipley, former spokesperson for CUPE Local 3903, has now been named representative for every conceivable interest on the planet.

Although his motivations for accepting such a hefty responsibility remain unclear, Tyler Shipley, known as the Paris Hilton of CUPE, will now speak on behalf of anyone and everyone.

Recently, at a clash between pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian demonstrators, Tyler Shipley took the microphone to claim that all Palestinians were terrorists, and that Israel would not negotiate until major concessions were undertaken.

Later, Palestinian spokesperson Tyler Shipley asked poignantly, “what does it mean to be a terrorist?”

“The state of Israel is the terrorist!” Tyler Shipley announced.

Tyler Shipley squares off against Tyler Shipley during the 2008 American Vice-Presidential Debate

Across town, another group of animal rights protesters stood firm, chanting and holding placards in front of the chemical company Shadycorp, known for its “Painted Ladies” product line. Tyler Shipley, holding his ubiquitous megaphone, announced that “this reprehensible company tests its products on poor, defenseless animals!”

Eventually, a representative emerged from the corporate headquarters to address the protesters. That representative, Tyler Shipley, assured the crowd that no products were tested on animals, before pointing to the crowd the company’s excellent track record with matters of animal rights, and offering free samples of the perfume line “Homogeneous” to the protesters.

The next day during recess at a local public school, an altercation occurred that that left one child’s G.I. Joe action figure limbless and decapitated.

Tyler Shipley, the representative of Timmy, accused classmate Jimmy of wrecking the toy, which wore beige camouflage and was called “Duke”.

"Duke"

Tyler Shipley, speaking on behalf of Jimmy, claimed that the G.I. Joe showed signs of structural weakness before leaving the hands of Timmy. He also claimed that Timmy had “internalized the logic of the employer”, although it remains unclear what the statement specifically meant in that context.

When asked to comment on his new role as representative of everyone and everything, Tyler Shipley redirected the question to his representative Tyler Shipley, who in turn redirected it to his representative Tyler Shipley, who in turn redirected it to his representative Ty…

This regression continued until the entire universe, from the smallest atom to the largest galaxy, was destroyed in a paradox.

Later, spokesperson for God, Tyler Shipley, commented that a replacement universe is already in the initial stages of development. He gave his assurances that the new universe will be remarkably similar to the first one, with the exception that ice cream would not make you fat, the Jets would be back in Winnipeg, and Tyler Shipley would always have a date on Friday night.

Hey man, remember me? I’m the guy who parks ridiculously close to you on the street.

Yeah, I’m doing ok. Just hanging out, you know? Adding another 10-20 minutes to your daily commute. Honestly, what would you do with those 20 minutes? My mother always told me that idle hands were the Devil’s playthings!

See, I just saw someone park on the next street over. He left the car in front of him 2 whole feet of space! I know! Never know what can happen in those gaps, eh?

So people think that this is just a hobby I’ve picked up over the years, but the truth is I have a long family history of parking too close. Thanks to the internet, I’ve traced my lineage back to Parkus Assholus, a Roman patrician who once blocked the Roman chariots, giving Caesar the chance to cross the Rubicon. I’m also related to El Douche, the Spanish sailor that anchored his ship so close to the rest of the Armada that it made the British fleet able to defeat them. Once my family settled in North America, my great-great grandfather tied his horse to the hind legs of Billy the Kid’s horse, preventing him from escaping the town’s deputies.

In my immediate family, I have my older brother. He parks incredibly close to your car as well, only he does it in the wintertime, when you’re already facing the twofold threat of snow and zero-traction. I’m not quite bold enough for that, yet. It must have something to do with birth order, but then, I just barely passed my psychology class in second year, so I have no idea.

And then right behind me is my little sister, but she’s not old enough to park on the street yet. But we still let her park immediately beside you in a giant empty parking lot. She’s got a long way to go, but she’s a good kid, and her heart is in the right spot.

Now, I know that in life it’s not always easy to do the right thing. But sometimes it’s nice when people leave me little signs telling me how much they appreciate what I do. Sometimes, people take the windshield wipers on my Hummer and point them straight up toward the sky, as if to say ‘thank heavens for you, guy who parks too close”. Other times it’s a little less subtle: simple little notes on my windshield saying “Thank You”. Although to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure when the word ‘thank’ began to be spelled F-U-C-K. I’m sure it has something to do with text messaging. That stuff is ruining the language.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in to see if you’re okay. Say, I’ve been eyeing your car for a while now, and that little scratch of paint you’ve got on the back bumper, well gee, that’s my colour! Small world eh?

Well, it was great talking to you, but I’ve got to jet. I think I spot an even smaller space I can squeeze into up the street. Happy motoring!

Not a year goes by where some incredibly astute cultural observer does not notice the mountain of gym memberships that are created in January, only to be completely abandoned by the time Valentine’s Day hits.

I’d like to christen this phenomenon the January Jumper.

Now, gym regulars love to shit on January Jumpers. Why? Maybe it’s a spatial thing. Gyms, even the ridiculous self-parody of a monstrous hyper-gym that I go to, are limited in size. The influx of new people means that you somehow limited in your ability to do what you want to do. But just because you can’t bench press something doesn’t mean you can’t go do a push-up somewhere else.

No, I think it’s something that goes much deeper. I think it’s a question of exclusivity. After all, you’d think that ‘healthy’ people would want other people to be ‘healthy’ too. But no, the new is encroaching on the old, and this simply will not do!

I joined a gym once, long ago, for one simple reason: I did not want to be fat. I spent most of my childhood being called both fat and smart, and I was never sure which I hated worse. By the time I realized that being smart might not be such a bad thing, I put those smarts to use and realized, you know, I wouldn’t mind wearing pants that fit.

Being smart and wearing fitted pants: that was the ticket!

But like many people, the endeavour included a few false starts. I tried going to the gym with my Dad, with friends, with trainers, but it never really took until I had graduated high school and had nothing else to do. And from there, a few things fell into place. Once I was working out regularly, my diet improved, which meant that I saw better results in the ubiquitous gym mirror, which meant that I was more inclined to stick to working out.

The thing is, for many people, myself included, the gym is merely a means to a simple end (not being fat). Never once did I take the gym to be a social place. I can be a fairly talkative person (I know we’re only at the outset, but I think we may have struck upon the understatement of the decade!), but in the years that I’ve gone to the gym I’d be hard-pressed to count on one hand the amount of times I’ve struck up a conversation with anyone. That’s not to say I don’t eye-fuck every other person I see, but that’s a different story altogether.

(Besides, there are few times and places in the day where I don’t eye-fuck every other person I see.)

Now, I know a lot of you muscle-bound types aren’t exactly known for your brainthinks, but try to tease this one out for a second. Your membership costs money (that paper stuff you use to get marginally-healthy protein bars). The January Jumpers pay money too, but throughout the year they do not use the space that you use. Therefore the money that the January Jumpers bring in probably subsidizes the cost of your membership. In other words, if it weren’t for them, then you would probably pay more to use the gym, which means less money for your name-brand workout gear.

So please, think twice before you shit on people for wanting to join your gym. Sure, New Years might not be the best time to join because of the failure that perpetually shadows New Years’ resolutions. But it’s possible that some of these people might not turn out to be January Jumpers after all.

People are going to join gyms for their own reasons. Sometimes they may even join your gym and you’re going to have to learn to deal with it.